Sick
by Draconic Vengence
Summary: It wasn't often that Chase Young succumbed to sickness, much preferring to fight it, even if it caused him pain, than allow it to dig its ugly claws into his flesh. This time, however, sickness had won out. Potential Chack, rating may go up later.


**Roses are red, the sky is blue, I don't own them, so you can't sue.**  
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It wasn't often that Chase Young succumbed to sickness, much preferring to fight it, even if it caused him pain, than allow it to dig its ugly claws into his flesh. This time, however, sickness had won out; it had cheated, it had snuck up on him while he lay dormant, asleep, and had ravaged his body before he'd had a chance to do anything about it.

Golden eyes slowly opened, and the first thing their owner was aware of was the pain. His stomach hurt, yes, but his head hurt a thousand times more. It was as though someone had used the changing chopsticks to enter his skull as he slept, and was now quite happily mauling his brain with a combination of a sledgehammer and a cheese grater.

Suffice to say, he wasn't happy about it, but it was an irrational thought; nobody could have entered his lair without either he, or his beloved pet monsters noticing.

The next thing was the horrifying wave of nausea that flooded him. So great was it that he immediately rolled over, bolting for the bathroom, to which he barely made it in time before his usually incredibly strong stomach purged itself entirely of its contents through his mouth, to his great distress. He let out a weak mewling noise, one he was not wont to make, but he allowed himself it this time, this was a serious case. It bloody hurt. More to the point, it was annoying. Very annoying.

Slowly, minutes later, after the threat of being violently ill had subsided enough to consider moving, Chase uncurled, climbing sluggishly to his feet. His head swam and dizziness crashed into him with such a force that he felt it necessary to grip the wall tight enough, feeling his form slip for a brief moment.

He sighed in irritation and what could only be described as a state of feeling sorry for himself, (He was allowed to, this didn't happen, sickness had kicked him in the balls while he slept!) and slowly, still leaning against the wall for support, made his way down to a lounge area. He suddenly realized he was freezing cold, to which bombshell he let out an agitated noise, and gave up, sagging onto a couch and curling up.

For a few hours he spent his time drifting in and out of sleep, occasionally one of his cats would wander in, press its cold nose to his belly, lick his cheek as it would with a cub that had fallen ill, and then wander off again, to do whatever they occupied themselves with when Chase wasn't around.

The next thing he heard of his cats was a bellowing roar, followed by a loud, rather undignified shriek of shock and maybe a little terror, announcing the arrival of his number one adoring fan, Jack Spicer.

He groaned. Great, just what he needed, the boy to see him in such a state of disarray. Conveniently, the boy hadn't been followed by his own stalker Wuya, (Okay, so maybe the witch didn't _stalk_ Jack, persay, but she certainly seemed to follow him around like a bad smell,) which meant little consolation to Chase, at least he could have scared the boy into saying nothing about his state.

Jack bounded in, stopping in the doorway and grinning happily, and all that could cross Chase's mind at the moment was _'...Stupid boy.'_

"Go away, Spicer, I'm not in the mood." He cringed when he realized it hadn't come out as commanding as he'd wished, but rather hoarse and a little weak sounding. He mentally stabbed himself for permitting himself to be so around Spicer. The boy blinked, why hadn't Chase attacked him or yelled at him yet?

He took another look at the man, barely dressed, shivering and curled up in as small a ball as he could fit, patches of scales showing over his flesh where his form was slipping, and could have only deduced that his hero and idol was ill.

"A-are you okay, Chase..?" He chanced, remaining in the doorway incase a need to run arose.

"No, you foolish child, I'm no-" Cut off mid-sentence by the sudden rising need for his stomach to expel itself again, Chase bolted, there was no way he'd puke on the floor in front of Spicer, it would have been undignified, and weak.

Although, running up the stairs as fast as he could probably wasn't at all good for him, as he crashed into the wall twice before hastily continuing up them, (All this happening in a matter of milliseconds,) Again, Chase felt the need to reevaluate the location of his bathroom, it was too damn far away for these sorts of occasions, he thought, as he fell upon his knees gripping the sides of the toilet bowl and gagging. Nothing happened, but Chase wasn't a fool, he could taste the bile in his throat, he _knew_ it was a matter of minutes, or even seconds before he'd be back up here, if he left now.

He was right, as always, approximately fourteen and a half seconds later he had his head back over the toilet, and was being violently sick again. This time, his stomach didn't let up in its torment, as if it had felt the need to cure this _once and for all._ Curiously enough, it was then that Spicer had followed him up the stairs, wiping blood off the wall where he'd caught his shoulder and ripped it open on the marble skirting, before standing beside him, and then crouching, carefully pulling Chase's hair out of the way and holding it behind the man's back.

Jack gently trailed the tips of his fingers up and down the dragon's back soothingly, as his idol moaned quietly and gave in trying to fight with his stomach over not throwing up in front of Spicer.

"Are you h-happy now?" Chase demanded shakily, his entire upper body trembling from supporting himself against the toilet. "Now you've s-seen me at my worst, as well?"

"Heh.." Jack said quietly, continuing to pet the warlord's back gently, "Not really. Everyone gets sick.. It's nothing to be ashamed of, it doesn't mean you're weaker than anyone else."

The boy's words had a somewhat calming quality to them when they reached Chase's ears, as the man sat back, sighing tiredly and sagging forwards, as Jack still persisted in stroking his spine. He wasn't complaining, he would allow the boy the gesture, it felt good, and calmed him further.

"I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want." Jack continued, pushing flaming red hair out of his eyes. Chase looked closer, he'd never noticed just how white the boy was, not grey, but white. And his eyes, they were a deeper colour than any of the rubies he had in his lair anywhere.

Coupled with his innocence, it gave the young genius a sense of almost ethereal beauty, that Chase was ashamed as a man who appreciated such beauty, not to have noticed before.

"Thank you.." He muttered, looking down, before carefully pushing up onto his feet and standing. He felt better, for the moment, his headache had subsided, and his stomach had stopped complaining. He started to walk off, when Jack called,

"You should get back into bed. Nothing's happened today, no Wu or anything. It's been pretty boring."

Chase agreed, and then turned in the opposite direction, wandering off to his bedroom, before standing in the doorway and calling back,

"Well? Aren't you coming? You've seen fit to be my keeper while I'm ill, you may as well do the job properly."

Jack grinned, running after his hero. Maybe things were looking up after all.

Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Flames will be given to Jack to convert into more hair dye.


End file.
